


All Around The Table

by Quicksilver_ink



Category: Suikoden I
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilver_ink/pseuds/Quicksilver_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of little ficlets about the members of the McDohl household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I named my hero "Endrey" rather than "Tir", because the novels didn't exist yet when I first played the games. I still use it in my 'fic because basically I'm a stubborn curmudgeon.

Memory was, for Ted, a nocturnal creature.

After three hundred precarious years, he had become accustomed to letting the concerns of the present and short-term swallow up his daily life -- where he'd sleep, how he'd find food, where to hide from soldiers or bandits or even the blows of other orphans living on the streets. (Not that he could forget his past; it was all there to recall if he reached for it, and the True Rune on his hand had promised it would play memory-keeper for him if he ever desired.) But during the day, the past remained distant. When Teo McDohl had taken him in, Ted found his habit of focusing on the present remained, and he could enjoy the (mostly-quiet) domesticity of the McDohl household. At least, during the day.

At night it was different. His dreams spanned the three hundred years of his life, and sometimes he woke from them, shivering with a pounding heart, as if he was still in the middle of them. In the darkness, he was alone, a fugitive always on the run: never safe, often hungry, always afraid.

So he always did his best to sleep alone, away from others (even if all he could do was curl up on the far side of the campfire), lest he give away his secret by his waking words. But for some reason, when ten-year-old Endrey proposed they make a tent of the kitchen table, and “camp out”, Ted was unable to dissuade him.

He woke in the night, as he’d feared, and stared into the blackness above him, listening to the whistling breathing of the McDohl scion and wondering if he’d hit his head on the table if he sat up.

_Then_ he realized he knew where he was, and more importantly when, and laughed, amazed that a snoring friend nearby was all he needed to keep the memories where they belonged.


	2. Croquettes and Curiosity

It was a veritable banquet. Gremio had really outdone himself for Master Teo's birthday, I thought as I lay my chopsticks across my plate. Sitting beside me, Pahn was still eating, on his fourth croquette and his fifth serving of stew. Endrey hadn't finished either, although he seemed to have slowed down - after the boy's third helping of just about everything, Master Teo had commented that his son's appetite promised another growth spurt.

  
    I pointed out that by that criteria, Pahn should be nine feet tall by now, and everyone laughed.

  
    "There's nothing wrong with being a good eater," Pahn responded defensively, croquette halfway to his mouth. "I need energy for all the hard work I do. If you're worried about wasting food, look at Ted. He eats like anything if you let him." He frowned. "Wonder where he is?"

I wondered too, but I wasn't too worried. Ted disappeared sometimes, especially this time of year -- the same time of year he'd come to live with us after Master Teo took him in at the end of the war. It was a little strange for him to miss dinner, though.

  
"He does eat a lot." Gremio rose and started clearing away place-settings. "Not that you can tell by looking at him. He's never had much meat on his bones, poor boy. And he hasn't grown an inch since the day we came to live with us."

  
    Master Teo looked at him, startled. "What, not at all?"

  
    "Well...I think he was thirteen his first year here." I frowned a bit; it did seem strange. "Tall for his age, I thought."

  
    Gremio nodded. "That's right, Cleo. He was thirteen. I made him a cake. He said he'd never had one before." He made to reach for Pahn's plate, since he'd seemed to have finished, but Pahn swatted his hand away and reached, chopsticks extended, for yet another croquette. "He never outgrew clothes, just wore them and tore them, and mended them himself when he could. I caught him stitching up his gloves on his own, one day - told me he didn't want to bother me with sewing leather.

  
    I handed Gremio my plate instead. "I wonder if something happened to him, when he lost his parents. Could shock have stopped his growth?"

  
    Master Teo looked thoughtful. "War orphans do have their own scars. I've never wanted to pry, but I suppose something like that might be possible..."

  
    Pahn shrugged. "Maybe he lied about his age."  
    


End file.
